Page 32 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 32

T he man’s vivid blue eyes widened at the braids hanging from Gretta’s belt. Too late, she slapped a hand over them.

Wearing her trophies had proven reckless after all, and that rankled more than getting busted—Philip would never let her hear the end of it.

“You’re the Hag Hacker?” the robber repeated. “ The Hag Hacker?”

There was little point in denying it now. Hell, considering his breathy, dazzled tone, she might be able to use this. At the very least, train robbers were unlikely to turn her in to the cops.

“Uh…” she said. “Yeah?”

“Hot damn !” The robber tore off his helmet, and aquamarine hair spilled around his face. His bright irises swirled like ocean waves. His pale, blue-tinted skin made him look like a shipwreck survivor who’d crawled from a frigid sea.

Gretta blinked in surprise.

Nereids .

She mostly knew of them from hearsay, since they were bound to their water sources and rarely ventured into cities, but they’d always sounded like peaceful types who kept to themselves.

Why the hell was this lot robbing inland trains?

The man clasped Gretta’s palm between his cold, clammy ones, vigorously shaking it. “What a gas! Seriously, we’re all big, big fans. What you did to that persuasion witch in Cloverwild was truly inspired.” He ducked his head bashfully. “I’m Tadpole, by the way.”

Cheeks warm, Gretta glanced at Ansel. His brow had practically disappeared into his hairline.

“Thanks?” she said.

Tadpole released her and rushed to the door. “Hey, Heron! Get in here!”

The female robber approached. Ansel stopped her with a light shove to the breastplate. His aggression no longer seemed necessary, but Gretta’s belly got the same little flutter it had when he’d defended her earlier.

She wasn’t used to anyone protecting her. Whether she needed it or not, it felt…nice.

“I mean her no harm,” the woman said, returning her sword to the scabbard.

“Keep your fucking distance, anyway.”

Another robber lumbered into the parlor. He was tall and sturdy like the other two, and he wore the same armor. A small chalkboard hung from his neck. A clanking sack lay draped over his shoulder.

A grinning Tadpole dragged the man to Gretta, nudging Ansel and his leader aside. “Your birthday came early, buddy. I’d like you to meet…the Hag Hacker!”

The man’s sack thunked to the floor. He removed his helmet, revealing a good-looking face and stunned, cerulean eyes.

“It’s true,” Gretta said. “Can we have our shit back now?”

Tadpole scampered to retrieve Gretta’s silver cloak and sack. He pressed them into her arms, along with her pocket watch and Philip’s valuables.

She dumped them on a chair. “The case.”

The woman hesitated and held it out. Ansel claimed it.

“We’re real sorry about all this,” Tadpole said. “These cars are usually full of old richies who wouldn’t give a squirt of piss for anyone but themselves. You’re one of us, though.” He patted the gauzy fabric peeking from his armor and turned to the woman. “Hey, Lil, you got a pen? Miss Hag Hacker, would you sign my armor?”

The other man scribbled on his chalkboard, Make mine out to Heron?

Shrugging, Gretta used Philip’s purloined pen to scrawl her moniker on their breastplates. If a couple autographs hurried things along, it was no trouble to her.

Philip jerked his hood on and gathered his things. “Now that we’ve sated Miss Hag Hacker’s vanity, we’ll thank you to let us be on our way. Some of us have schedules to keep.”

The robbers’ gleeful smiles faded, and they side-eyed each other.

The woman, Lil, let out a sigh. “You fellas are free to go. I’m afraid we’ll be detaining the Hacker.”

“The fuck you will,” Ansel said.

“By goddess, fate is what this is,” Tadpole told Gretta. “We’ve got a witch that needs killing! A real nasty old cunt. If you come slay her, we’d be mighty grateful.”

Gretta put away her knife. “I’d love to, but I have a previous commitment. I’d be happy to take your contact information, though.”

Lil removed her helmet, and ribbons of lavender hair fell down her back. She looked older than the others, maybe forty, with elfin features that contrasted her warrior’s body. “It’s urgent.”

“She told you she’s not interested,” Ansel said.

“I’m gonna have to insist.”

Ansel’s chest rumbled.

“Relax,” Gretta whispered. “Let me talk to them.” It felt strange to be the one promoting diplomacy over violence, but it had been a strange fucking week. Also, curiosity niggled her.

“What kind of witch?” she asked.

“Music,” Tadpole said. “Singers have gone missing from our area, including Heron’s kid sister. He tried sorting it out himself, but the bitch stole his voice and almost killed him.”

An aria witch, then.

Gretta studied Heron’s chalkboard and his sad, haunted eyes. They didn’t plead or demand anything from her. They looked resigned. He reminded her of Ansel when she’d first arrived at the cottage, and it called to her in a way demands couldn’t.

While she was anxious to get the repellent to the capital, a quick detour wouldn’t make that much difference. “Maybe I can spare the time…”

“Absolutely not!” Ansel and Philip cried in unison.

“These people are hijackers and thieves,” Ansel said. “What if they kill you?”

Lil stuck a hand on her hip. “We may be thieves, but we aren’t killers. She’d be our honored guest.”

“Nat’s expecting you,” Philip said.

Since Gretta no longer worked for him, she was having trouble finding a shit to give about being late for their meeting. And who knew, maybe this would launch her freelance hunting career. “Where does the witch live?”

“Great Opal Lake. We’re from there, too.”

Gretta knew of it but had never been there. It was named for milky waters that were said to have nourishing properties. If this gang drank it, that would explain their robust builds.

She pulled Ansel aside. “What do you think? Can we tack an extra day or two on the trip?”

He seemed startled she’d consulted him, but this journey was as much his as it was hers, and she couldn’t send him off to Nat without so much as an introduction.

“I don’t trust them,” he said.

“They’re practically my fan club. I don’t think they’d hurt me.”

“I thought you were in a hurry.”

“I am, but we can help these people. Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to do the same for us?” As he considered, she added, “This is also our chance to field test the repellent.”

He scrubbed a hand over his neck like he did when he was about to cave. “Fine. But you’re not facing the witch alone. I’m going with you.”

Smiling, Gretta turned to Lil. “We’re in. You’ve got forty-eight hours.”

Tadpole hooted. “We can pay you. You can cherry-pick the sacks.”

“That won’t be necessary. In fact, if you want my services, you’ll return what you stole and let the train continue.” Gretta may be a killer, but she wasn’t a thief.

Lil nodded at her cohorts, and they left the parlor.

“You’re really going to run off with these pirates?” Philip asked. “You prove my point at every turn.”

On paper, it did seem reckless, but Gretta was trusting her gut on this one. “Send someone for Brand and the pixies.”

“If you make it home, send us a wire so we don’t come looking for your corpse.”

“Sure thing.”

After quickly working out the logistics—Ansel and Gretta would spend the night in the robber’s den and hunt the witch in the morning—they repacked their things and followed Lil off the train.

Three more members of her gang disembarked with sullen mumblings about the booty they’d lost. The befuddled passengers stared out windows as the train resumed its course.

Ansel scanned the flat, sunny field. “I don’t see any horses.”

“They’re slow and easy to track,” Tadpole said. “No good for getaways.”

“So how the hell are we getting to this lake?”

“Patience, handsome,” Lil called, hiking west.

With Ansel sticking to Gretta like putty, they trekked through wild grasses for a quarter mile until they reached a marsh. A cluster of enormous, slender figures stood in the reeds, and from a distance, Gretta assumed they were dead trees. Then Lil let out a shrill whistle.

Six heads gracefully swiveled as one. Elegant wings unfurled. The figures took flight, wings swooping, creating a breeze that ruffled Gretta’s ponytail when they landed nearby.

Giant cranes —the prettiest, most intimidating birds Gretta had ever seen. Their wingspans had to be twenty feet, and their skinny legs could flatten a troll with one stomp.

“Are we supposed to ride those things?” Ansel asked.

Lil winked. “You can hitch with me.”

As Gretta gaped at their apparent transportation, Heron approached with his shoulders hunched and his eyes averted, like he didn’t want to frighten her.

His chalkboard read, I’d be honored if you’d ride with me, Miss Hag Hacker.

“My name’s Gretta. And I’d be happy to ride with you.”

Heron took her bags, and Ansel scowled.

Lil whistled again. The cranes hunkered, each extending a wing. Lil and Heron helped Ansel and Gretta up.

As Gretta’s crane stood, she locked her arms around Heron, and the birds ascended with a whooshing lurch. It was a different sort of flying than she was used to. They went higher, faster, and she had no control. But the wind on her face felt good. She laughed as the crane dipped, and Heron shyly patted her hand.

They continued on for miles. The marsh turned to prairie, then birch trees, then a pine forest shrouded in fog. Half an hour into their flight, a lake appeared. They landed on a bluff overlooking pale, creamy water that crashed against the cliff, misting the air. When the water ebbed, pearly foam coated the rocks below.

From the bluff, Gretta squinted but couldn’t see the lake’s other side. Inland, there were fruit trees and gardens with rows of neatly tended vegetables.

“That apple is the size of my head!” she said. Nodding, Heron spread his hand at the lake. Apparently the water did make things grow.

He helped her disembark, and Ansel stalked to her, looking a bit ill. The cranes flew off with a fluttering squawk.

“What do you think of flying,” she asked.

In answer, he hunched over with his hands on his knees. She laughed and rubbed his back. When she realized what she was doing, she snatched her hand away, embarrassed.

“Come on,” Lil said. “Home’s this way.”

Lil approached the cliff and dropped out of sight.